


Long Distance Therapy

by Sugarmouse



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Dark, M/M, Mention of Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, post mizumono
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarmouse/pseuds/Sugarmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post Mizumono. Will is left broken and in need of his therapist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Distance Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to [thetarkonator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thetarkonator) for the awesome beta!
> 
> For anyone worried about [A Knack for Monsters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1658156). I am waiting on my beta. That fic seems to be cursed. The whole thing is written and it's kind of out of my hands unless some superhuman wants to beta the whole thing as fast as my impatient nature would like!
> 
> You can contact me on tumblr at [sugarmaus](http://sugarmaus.tumblr.com) and on twitter [@ThisMouse](https://twitter.com/ThisMouse).

The one thing that comes to represent Will’s life is the guilt.

The pain happens. It exists and it passes in a haze of drugs and when the drugs are gone it exists as dull aches and sharp stabs and a sense that his body is different and broken beyond repair. The surgeries take place and no one seems to tell him in plain language exactly what is happening. He feels weak and frail and useless as he’s moved around like a doll by nurses. His body is not his own, everyone touching him all over. The technicians come to take pictures of his wounds and ask him a million questions.

The way some of them look at him, the way they speak to him lets Will know their thoughts, clear as day on their faces. No matter their words, _they know_. They know that he is not innocent, that he is tainted now, poisoned and beyond redemption.

The worst are the ones that call him lucky. Tell him that the man that gutted him clearly wanted him to suffer and for his death to be slow and painful. They tell him that the slow death is what saved his life and all he can think of in those moments is how lucky Abigail might have felt in her gasping last moments.

He does not feel “lucky”, he does not feel “better” or “stronger” or “ready” or any of the other words they want to label him with. He feels broken and lost and and a series of shifting emotions that he does not wish to put a name upon. He does not want to stand before a tribunal and explain his actions, he does not want to see whatever new therapist they send his way, he does not want to recover. He wants it to be over. He regrets the fighting and the urge to _live_. He regrets his instincts to hold on just that little bit longer against the sensation of his death.

Alana wheels herself into the doorway and sits and watches him and sometimes she speaks but usually she does not. He is not sure why she bothers to visit. They have nothing to say any more. He does not want to retread the thoughts he’s already been through a million times. No good can come of it, he knows that now.

When he’s allowed to move his body aches in ways he’s never felt. He can feel the deep pulsing ache inside and he knows that it’s part of him now, his insides rearranged and stitched together. He does not look at his wounds when they change his bandages, he does not want to see the shape of the scar Hannibal has left him with.

The scars will be souvenirs of Hannibal, the outward manifestation of his affect on Will’s body. It’s the last thing Will wants to see. He does not want to think about Hannibal, does not want to think about his last words, does not want to imagine what Hannibal is up to, out there. He cannot bring himself to think about what Hannibal would say to him now.

They question him repeatedly and his answers never change, but they ask the same questions again and again. They tell him again and again that despite his injuries, despite his near death and Alana’s testimony, that they need to investigate every angle. They need to write their reports and wrap Jack’s and Abigail’s deaths and Hannibal’s escape up in a neat little bow that just isn’t possible.

When they release him from the hospital and tell him that he’s _lucky_ and _blessed_ and how _relieved_ he should be, he wants to laugh at their naivete. The world is not a happy place where people survive and can become whole again. Hannibal is wrong, the cup never came back together, he did not smash it a second time. He simply ground the broken pieces further into dust on the floor.

*****

They don’t want him to go back to his house, isolated and far away, but he goes anyway. He is free for the time being, but only in a technical sense. He goes to his empty house and it’s dusty and dark and smells like his dogs. He curls up on the couch and he can’t help but think about what he has lost.

They call and arrange meetings and tell him when and where he needs to be, who he needs to speak with. The hospital calls with instructions and the bureau calls about the ongoing investigation. The new therapist they’ve arranged calls about setting up an appointment time. Will hangs up after she pleads with him to come in so they can _talk in a non judgmental environment_. He knows such a place does not exist any more.

He sits in the dim light and looks at his dusty fishing rods and the empty spaces where the dogs used to sit. He sees everything that has changed and isn’t coming back and he hopes the dogs have been adopted rather than put down.He aches and he takes the painkillers and he drinks the beer that was sitting in his fridge even though he shouldn’t. He drinks until he falls asleep, the blackout coming sooner than the loss of pain he had hoped for.

The phone wakes him and his first thought is yet another appointment, another person telling him where to be and what to do and who to placate, and he does not want to answer. He does not scrabble in the dark for the receiver, he does not attempt to pick it up. It rings out and he lies on the couch and stares at the ceiling and it rings again and again. He doesn’t answer and eventually the caller stops trying.

Despite the remaining alcohol in his system, despite the tiredness that clings to him deeply and pulls him down, Will does not get back to sleep. He stares into the dark and feels every ache and pain and agony in both his physical body and beyond.

*****

He goes into Quantico and they argue and debate and people in suits talk down to him. There are so many repeated phrases and arguments and they all pass over Will’s head. There’s talk of charges and mental illness and just how _culpable_ he is, and Will just wants it all to be over. He wants to go back in time and get to the house and for it to be empty. He wants Hannibal to have left and Abigail and Jack to be safe and whole and for them not to be buried in graves that he’s been too infirm to visit. He wants the image of Hannibal’s face gone from his mind and the memory of the blade sinking into his flesh and that momentary peace he found on the edge of death to be banished from his memory.

He doesn't care what happens any more, does not care if they decide he is at fault. He does not care that Jack is no longer able to fight for him and he's too beyond caring to fight for himself. He pretends to listen to their words and hears them insist that he speak to their therapist again. Will has a bad history with therapy, they know that and yet they still act as though all his problems will be solved if only he talks about them. If only it were so simple.

He drives home and he's aching by the time he gets back and he pops more pills and drinks more beer, but it doesn't help so he opens the whiskey. He drinks too much and considering his surgery and state of his innards he shouldn't be drinking at all but worrying about that sort of thing is for people who care about their futures. He sits alone and misses his dogs and misses his _life_ and he misses the person he used to be.

The phone rings and the stupid FBI therapist is talking again in those annoying reasonable tones and he's not some stupid spooked pony that can be calmed if only she speaks softly enough. He wants to scream at her but instead he hangs up the phone and sits on the couch with his whiskey in one hand and his head in the other. He closes his eyes and tries to block things out but it doesn't work, even with far too much alcohol.

The phone rings before he dozes off and he answers despite himself, despite the lateness of the hour and he listens to the breathing on the other end and he's not sure how but he _knows_ who it is. He is calmer than he has any right to be but his voice sounds smooth to his own ears, filled with confidence he lacks, missing the roughness it should have. "Hello Hannibal."

"Will," the voice comes back with the slight delay that distance and time has brought and the line is not the clearest but he'd recognise the voice in any state. He could not fail to know Hannibal a mile off and no matter what happens, he knows that will always be the case. "How are the hearings going?" Hannibal asks and Will wants to laugh at the absurdity but there is no humour to be found here.

"They're arguing about my culpability, whether I should have charges pressed against me," says Will. "I did _kill_ for you after all."

"Yes," says Hannibal quietly and he pauses and Will takes another drink of whiskey and focuses on the burn in his throat.

"You could have left, you didn't...you didn't have to take them away from me," says Will quietly and for a moment he's scared Hannibal will hang up the phone. He should not worry, he should _want that_ , surely he should want that. He should not want to talk to Hannibal right now and yet he clutches the phone tightly and holds his breath and listens to the faint sounds of breathing on the other end of the line.

"You hurt me," says Hannibal and Will feels his eyes burn again with the tears he thought he had long run out of.

"I gave you a chance to leave Hannibal, you could have left and it would have been _fine_."

"We both know that's a lie Will," says Hannibal. "I didn't want to leave you, I...I needed you to come with me."

"You're going to say that it's my fault," says Will softly and he drains the last of his glass of whiskey and smiles sadly at the empty room. "You did this to me Hannibal. You killed Jack and you took Abigail away from me yet again, you almost killed me and Alana and you...you...." Will takes a shaking breath and his fingers go to the bandages around his midsection. The bandages he's expected to change and yet can't bring himself to remove, can't bring himself to see what's underneath.

"I gave you a gift," says Hannibal softly. "You’re the one that didn’t want it.."

"I didn’t want the conditions you attached," says Will sadly as he looks around for the bottle and he hears Hannibal sigh on the other end of the line.

"It could have been different Will, if only you'd come with me." Will grits his teeth and frowns.

" _You_ did this Hannibal, you broke me and crushed me and _gutted_ me and left me to die. You caused this."

"Yes Will," says Hannibal and he's too calm sounding. It makes Will ache to punch him and he pictures his smug face but it always flashes back to Hannibal's face as he sank that blade into Will's guts and sliced, and he winces at the memory. "I wanted you Will, despite everything I still do, I still care about you."

"Bullshit," says Will. He stands and moves around the room looking for the bottle and finding it lying on it's side on the floor. He picks it up and holds it under his arm and unscrews the cap with his free hand. He takes a swig straight from it and he does not savour the flavour or consider how much he’s already had. He sits on the couch with the phone in one hand and bottle in the other.

”Goodbye Will,” says Hannibal’s voice and there’s a click and the line is dead and Will flings the phone onto the floor hard enough that the back flies off and the battery pops out. He does not go to retrieve it, he does not bother to do anything more than sit and drink and stare.

*****

It happens again and again, the calls and routine, the questions and orders and unwanted advice. He sits with his thoughts a lot, too much. He is lost and does not believe he can ever be found again. Every evening he stares at the phone as it rings at that same time and he ignores it. He will not answer and listen to that voice, not when the person on the other end is too far away for Will to do what he really wants.

He frowns at the phone as it rings over and over until Hannibal gives up. It does not take long until he calls only once and Will only needs to ignore the phone ringing for a short period of time. He hopes that soon he won’t call at all and he drinks and hopes to forget what he cannot.

*****

The only places he goes are to the store, and Quantico when they threaten him. He keeps showing up and they keep making the same arguments and that same therapist accosts him and tells him all about her experience with agents in _difficult_ situations.

He ignores what he can. When someone from the hospital calls, he brushes off their concerns and questions and he itches at the bandages and thinks it’s a miracle he’s not got an infection. He finally changes them but manages to get the cotton over the itching wound before he has to see it. He doesn’t care about how much it hurts, not any more. He cares that every time he moves and feels a twinge it makes him think of Hannibal.

He eats frozen meals and stares at the walls and feels time passing. Sometimes he ignores the daytime calls and sometimes he does not. He notices that Alana does not call and wonders if it is his own fault or hers. He drinks too much with the medication that he’s forgetful in taking.

He sleeps a lot. He sleeps so much that his mind is cloudy and his body feels even more exhausted. He still wakes for those late calls though. He sits up and stares at the ringing phone and he does not answer.

He thinks about answering, he plans out things he might say all the time. He does not say them out loud, not even to the empty room. He repeats them in his mind and even when it’s just a picture of Hannibal in his head, he loses his confidence and his thoughts fall apart.

His life does not feel solid, as though the world is floating and might give way beneath his feet at any moment. He picks up the phone and tells the caller to leave him alone and he’s not even sure if that was a dream or not. When he wakes he looks at the receiver next to him and he worries Hannibal will not call again.

He is relieved when it rings again the next night and he picks it up and listens to the breathing on the other end and neither speaks until Will hangs up and sleeps, the bottle and phone both held against his body.

He starts to answer again and Hannibal does not speak, merely listens and Will uses his liquid courage to say things he wants to say.

Hannibal listens for a long time and when Will is quiet and crying he speaks softly. “How much have you been drinking Will?” and Will hangs up the phone and throws it to the floor and finds the end of the bottle.

*****

He wakes more hungover than he can ever recall in his life and he vomits and showers and stares at himself in the mirror. He shaves for the first time in a long time but it does not make him feel like a new man. He does not start drinking until the evening and he does not want to start but he needs it. He needs a lot of things he cannot have and he does not want to deny himself something that is actually within his reach.

He drinks until his body aches a little less. He drinks until he feels warm and disconnected and powerful in his anger. He drinks until the responsibility and guilt he feels seems distant, as though it is someone else who feels them.

*****

He answers the call and they sit in silence again and Will curls up on the couch and listens to the breathing and finds it strangely comforting. “Have they sent you to therapy yet?” Hannibal asks and Will looks at his bottle.

”I won’t speak to her,” Will replies and Hannibal chuckles and asks why not. Will sighs and looks at the empty room. “You’re the only therapist I ever liked Hannibal. I don’t speak to her because she wouldn’t understand.”

”And I would?” asks Hannibal. Will closes his eyes.

”You understand me Hannibal, and I used to understand you.”

”You don’t understand me any more?” asks Hannibal and Will swears he sounds hurt and it makes his fingers itch to reach for his bottle.

”I don’t understand a lot of things Hannibal, but when it comes to people, you’re the only one I just don’t get, not any more.”

”I’m sorry,” says Hannibal. “I am not infallible…I have regrets.”

Will hangs up and cries and thinks about Abigail and his old life and Hannibal and how broken and fucked up everything is now.

*****

Their conversations are brief but nightly and Will feels better for it. Hannibal listens quietly no matter what names Will comes up with for him. He listens no matter what tresspasses Will accuses him of, he listens when Will cries and asks him why. Hannibal does not tell him _why_ but he does offer apology after apology.

Perhaps the apologies are intended to be sincere but they feel empty and meaningless and Will hates him for it. He hates himself for not hanging up. He hates himself for wishing Hannibal would stop apologising.

He tells Hannibal that he has destroyed everything, that he is a destroyer that will leave a path of destruction wherever he goes. He tells Hannibal that he will never be happy ever and he wishes it was true. He wishes his own fate on Hannibal as a fitting punishment but ultimately the words are meaningless and don’t make him feel better.

He asks Hannibal why he had to take everything away and Hannibal simply apologises over and over and when Will is cried out and about to hang up he says that he simply wanted Will to himself.

Will hangs up the phone and he throws down the bottle and runs to the toilet to vomit. He tells himself he’s drinking too much but his own admonitions do nothing to stop him from picking the whiskey up once more.

*****

Will misses his checkup and the hospital calls again and he writes down the appointment time. He actually debates going this time. Even if it means more poking and prodding, even if it means the well meaning doctors try to show him the scar. He does not want to look at it, he does not even want to touch it as he washes himself. It still itches and hurts and it’s still damp and disgusting and foreign.

The only person he talks to now with any regularity is Hannibal and he does not care to analyse that too far. He just keeps picking up the phone and talking and wondering why he keeps doing it.

”You said you wanted me,” says Will and Hannibal agrees and tells him the kinds of things that some stupid person might believe and think beautiful. “I’m ugly and broken, you don’t want me any more,” says Will and Hannibal argues no. When Will asks him why he made him so awful, why he hurt and scarred him and left him to die there’s a pause and Hannibal speaks and for a moment Will thinks he’s perhaps being honest.

”I was hurt,” Hannibal says. “Call it petty but I lost my temper, I felt the need to destroy that which I could not have.” The sentiment makes Will feel sick and angry and he screams at Hannibal and tells him he’s inhuman, that he is not something for Hannibal to _own_. Hannibal takes it all, quietly listening, his breathing on the other end of the line. Will screams himself out and he takes a breath and asks why the fuck Hannibal can’t just leave him alone, why he keeps calling.

”Why do you keep answering the phone?” asks Hannibal and Will hangs up and drinks to forget. It does not work.

*****

He does not want to answer the phone and yet he does, as though his hands are controlled by another. He is sick of this feeling and he tells Hannibal to leave him alone. Hannibal listens and he’s quiet when Will yells and when he’s exhausted Hannibal asks if he feels better. “Fuck you,” says Will and he tries to put every ounce of venom he can muster into the words but it is never enough.

”How is the investigation going?” asks Hannibal and Will accuses him of simply looking out for his own skin. He knows it doesn’t matter, he know Hannibal is far away and too clever to be caught by just anyone. “I worry about you,” says Hannibal and Will does not want to believe the words, does not believe Hannibal is capable of such thoughts.

Will says that one day he’ll see Hannibal dead and the voice on the phone laughs and Will drinks from the bottle and frowns and imagines pulling a trigger over and over and the smiling face of Garett Jacob Hobbs morphs into Hannibal’s grinning face.

”Why haven’t you tried to trace the line?” asks Hannibal and Will asks him how he knows he hasn’t. “I just know you Will,” says Hannibal. Will asks how he can trust him, after he tricked him. Will feels a swell of pride at the knowledge that he _did_ trick Hannibal, that he came so close to winning. “I trust you Will,” says Hannibal. “You warned me once.” Will hesitates before hanging up the phone.

*****

He visits the therapist but only after particular threats and promises it would be just the one session, another assessment. He does not picture this therapist rubber stamping him. She does not. She asks about Jack and Abigail and Alana and Will barely speaks. By the end of the session he thinks it funny that she did not speak about the one person who matters. He is glad it is over.

He meets important people and they ask him how he’s doing and he shrugs and says better even if it’s a lie. They pat him on the back and say that things are looking up for him and from what they hear he is no criminal, merely unstable and he wants to laugh.

Perhaps they think this new therapist is working and isn’t that so funny when his current therapist is a bottle and a monster on the phone.

*****

”Do you sit with your legs crossed when you speak with me,” asks Will. “Do you make notes afterwards?”

”You’re a special patient,” says Hannibal and Will rolls his eyes and lies on the sofa. He asks how long Hannibal has considered these calls therapy and Hannibal laughs at him. Will grits his teeth and resists reaching for the bottle. He does not want to sit up so he lies still and listens to Hannibal tell him that it’s been therapy all along, a step in Will’s recovery.

”You can’t fix something you yourself broke,” says Will and Hannibal is quiet and he does that stupid thing where he apologies again and it makes Will feel _guilty_ even though he knows he has no reason to be. He has grown to detest this feeling and he tells Hannibal so. Hannibal does not apologise again but he does ask Will how he’s doing and Will answers and he feels stupid for the comfort he knows he gets from these calls.

*****

”When was the last time you were happy?” Hannibal asks and Will grips the phone too tight and claims he can’t remember. He knows it was in another life, a different person. Will knows the person he is now is no longer capable of feeling that particular emotion and Hannibal asks him how he felt when he took Randall’s life. If Hannibal were here Will might spit on him or punch him, keep punching his smiling bloody face until it was no longer a face, no longer capable of smiling.

”You shall feel happy again,” says Hannibal and Will imagines Hannibal trying to fix that cup again, so far beyond fixing. There is not enough patience in the world and he tells Hannibal so and they both sit in silence but for the sound of breathing. “The cup came together once before,” says Hannibal and Will tells him that one cannot predict the future based on experience and Hannibal laughs.

Will is not sure how he feels but he knows he needs a drink and a shower and to sleep but not in which order.

*****

Will’s bandages are off and he misses the pills and he finds himself drinking even more. He ignores the calls during the day, only answering the one that comes in the evening. Aside from passing words of necessity in the store, Hannibal’s calls are the only time Will speaks.

Hannibal asks Will why he did not take up his offer, why he didn’t come with him and Will cries. He is no longer sure why he did not do it, the person who turned him down was a less broken and pathetic creature. He tells Hannibal this, despair and alcohol loosening his tongue. He tells Hannibal how much he has changed. That he cannot be blamed for being who he is, just as the person he was before cannot be blamed for being who he was. Hannibal asks Will if he can be blamed in that case and Will laughs and asks if he’s looking for redemption. Hannibal simply tells him that people change and Will agrees. It is not always for the better, he points out and Hannibal agrees. It is strange for them to find so much common ground but Will cannot bring himself to care about what that might mean.

*****

The therapist comes to his house, accosts him at his door and berates him for ignoring all of her many calls. She tells him that the bureau cannot shield him forever and that he needs to play by the rules. He closes the door in her face and listens to her call at him through the door. He wonders if he could go somewhere and start fresh, be a new person. Perhaps he could work on the boats again. The person who did that, who would do that, was innocent and clean and did not know the number of horrors that Will knows now. He cannot be that other person, it is too late and he despairs and wonders if the dark clouds will chase him to his grave.

*****

Hannibal asks about the investigation and the hearings and Will’s culpability, and Will tells him he does not care about any of it. He says he’s done, done caring and done listening to what everyone else tells him. If they wanted to charge him they’d have done it already. He knows they already think he’s crazy and perhaps they’d be okay with leaving him to be crazy by himself. He tells Hannibal that he might just pick up and leave, go somewhere his face wasn’t splashed across the tabloids.

Hannibal asks him where he’s moving to and Will stumbles over words as he tries to sound a lot more organised and confident than he really is.

*****

Hannibal does not bring up Will’s thoughts of moving again and they talk about a broadening range of subjects. It feels familiar in a way Will does not understand. He has never had an old friend he spoke to this way. He tells Hannibal that he has changed him, that Hannibal has left a scar on him deeper than the physical ones on the outside of his body.

It’s the only time Will rests his hand against his stomach, over his shirt and concentrates on the aching just there. Hannibal says that Will has changed him too and Will asks if he finds it difficult to fit where he used to.

”I don’t fit in my old space, I’m a pile of fragments that don’t fit anywhere,” Will says and Hannibal tells him he is not merely fragments but a different arrangement of the pieces. “You changed me and now there’s no place for me,” says Will and Hannibal does not apologise, he’s figured out some time ago that Will does not want to hear it.

*****

Will takes out a map and stares at it and thinks about where he should go, what he could do. There’s work out there for someone who doesn’t care about what happens to him. He thinks back to his old life before the police, before the FBI and he remembers being a teenager and working hard and thinking how great things would be once he was free and on his own.

Hannibal calls and they talk and Will tells him that it’s to be their last conversation. Hannibal is quiet, he simply listens as Will tells him that he needs to move on, that he’s never going to come back together if he does not move on.

”I doubt that this will truly be the last time we speak,” says Hannibal and Will shakes his head and tells him to believe it. “We need one another,” says Hannibal. “It’s too late for things to be any different.” Will tells him he’s wrong and he hangs up the phone and he regrets leaving things like that.

He looks at the phone and he knows Hannibal is right, he knows they’ll speak again and for some reason the thought does not terrify him as perhaps it should.

*****

Will gets in his car and starts to drive and he ignores the map and keeps going until he does not recognise the streets and buildings. He stays at cheap motels and he goes to cheap bars and he hates everyone around him when they smile and pay any kind of attention to him. He thinks he sees Jack in one bar, Abigail passing him on the street. When he sleeps he sees Randall Tier and Garrett Jacob Hobbs and in their faces he sees Hannibal and he wakes up shaking and sweating and reaching for a phone that isn’t ringing.

He does not stop running until he gets some distance between himself and the geographical reminders of his memories. He finds a job that does not interfere with his drinking and thoughts. He works on engines and it’s dirty honest work and people leave him be. He grows his beard out and he thinks of Hannibal and enough time passes that people don’t ask questions about where he came from before he moved here. The time passes but no matter how many weeks and months it’s been, it’s not long enough for Will to forget Hannibal. He delays getting a phone set up in his cheap apartment and when it is set up, he spends his evenings looking at it and expecting it to ring. It doesn’t.

*****

He drinks too much and he gets into a dumb fight at work and he punches the guy too hard and he threatens to press charges for his broken nose. Will skulks home and the phone rings and he holds his breath and feels his heart pound.

It’s his boss telling him he’s fired and miraculously Will doesn’t tell him to go fuck himself even though he feels like it. He stays in and drinks and sleeps and has a dream where Hannibal visits him and tells him everything will be okay and he wakes up hungover and confused and angry. He breaks an empty bottle but it only cuts his hand, rather than making him feel any better.

He stares at the blood on his hand and the broken glass and he thinks about blood and bleeding. He remembers how painful bleeding out from his guts had been, he remembers growing heavy and the pain fading and the moment when he thought he was dying and how peaceful he’d felt. He thinks about how easy it would be to pick up the largest shard of the bottle and use it.

He wraps the broken glass in old newspapers and opens a new bottle instead.

*****

He drinks and sleeps and he waits for the eviction notice but it does not come. He lies along and he grows sick and weak and he hopes he’s dying because he’s too cowardly to actually end it.

He dreams Hannibal visits him again and he hears his voice whispering and telling him he’ll be okay. He dreams that Hannibal wipes his brow and tucks a blanket around him and takes care of him and it’s only a dream but he feels safe.

When he wakes hungover, a blanket is over him and for a moment he imagines that perhaps his dream was real. He realises that he’s probably losing his mind and he turns to the drink again but it doesn’t help to ease his worries until he’s too far into a stupor to move.

The vision of Hannibal is fuzzy and unclear but it visits and speaks and it’s words make no sense. It tells him that Will and Hannibal need one another and Will tells it that he’d rather die. It asks him why he didn’t take his gun and pull the trigger then, quick and easy and final and Will cries and struggles and the monster holds the bottle out of his reach until he gives up and sleeps.

*****

It is many days until Will is aware enough to see the vision for what it really is. He does not fight Bedelia as she picks out clothes and urges him to get dressed. He does not bother to ask her why she’s here. He knows that whether it was at Hannibal’s urging or her own initiative, she’s here for the same reason.

”He wants you to forgive him,” says Bedelia and she leads him out of the house and he leaves his things behind. They drive and he tells her that he’d rather die but he’s sure she does not believe him.

They fly first class and no one seems to notice his lack of luggage and their mismatched attire. Bedelia sips champagne and looks out the window and Will sleeps. Bedelia nudges him when he makes noises and he wakes and stares ahead instead and asks himself what he’s doing.

He hopes that Hannibal will kill him and do what he himself cannot and the thought brings him comfort and makes him smile. He must look crazy to be so happy but then perhaps people will just assume he’s excited to travel to Europe. He watches a film on the plane and does not remember the plot as he’s so distracted.

*****

Hannibal picks them up at the airport and Will can’t bring himself to look at him. He feels Hannibals eyes on him as he stares out the window and they drive for hours from the city to the countryside. He thinks he should be marvelling at the beauty and architecture and nature but all he can think is what Hannibal is going to say to him before he ends it, properly this time.

They arrive at the kind of building that seems to fit Hannibal all too well and Bedelia almost runs from the car and they’re alone but Will can’t bring himself to look at Hannibal so he looks around instead and he examines details he does not care about at all.

”I missed you,” says Hannibal. “I missed our calls, I missed having someone to talk to.”

”You have Doctor Du Maurier,” says Will and he shakes his head and looks up at Hannibal. Hannibal smiles and he tells Will it’s not the same and he does the one thing Will wishes he wouldn’t and he apologises again. Will wants to punch him but he doesn’t. He wants to kiss him but he doesn’t.

”You stopped apologising before,” says Will. “Stop doing that.” He grits his teeth and he looks away from Hannibal before he does something stupid. It’s too late though, he’s already done a thousand stupid things. He can’t go back, he has no choice now, Hannibal is going to have to kill him.

”I will keep apologising until you forgive me,” says Hannibal and Will closes his eyes and he wants to scream and yell and curse Hannibal but he does not. He opens his eyes and he looks at Hannibal’s face and he sighs and he knows it’s too late to fix the cup, it’s new form is his own now.

”I forgave you the moment you did it. I hate you and you took away the people I love, you took everything from me and yet I _forgave_ you Hannibal,” says Will and his vision blurs and he isn’t in control when his arms swings and he catches Hannibal across the jaw and the sound of that Hannibal makes is so satisfying.

Hannibal rights himself and holds his jaw and looks at Will. He dabs blood from the corner of his mouth and Will shakes his head and reaches up and kisses him and when he pulls back Hannibal looks thoughtful and Will wants to kill him and fuck him.

”I wanted a child and you took it away, I wanted a _life_ and you took it away and when I wanted to _die_ you wouldn’t even allow me that.”

Hannibal cups his face and he smiles and he wipes Will’s tears and he speaks softly and he tells Will that he loves him and he’s filled with regret and obligation. He tells Will that he’s changed now too, that Will is inside him just as deep as he has entered Will and Will asks him if he’ll at least end it, if he’ll at least let Will _die_. Hannibal kisses him and strokes his cheek and tells him yes, he will, one day.

They walk inside together and Hannibal undresses him and bathes him and cuts his hair. He dresses Will in new clothing and then leads him to a beautiful dining room where he serves Will a home cooked meal. He feeds him and Will does not question the ingredients or question the lack of wine.

Afterwards Hannibal leads him upstairs. Hannibal moves slowly and he’s soft and tender when he makes love to Will. He holds Will closely and keeps kissing and petting him long after they are both spent. He kisses the scar on Will’s belly and traces the edges of it and Will still can’t bear to look so he stares at the ceiling. Hannibal whispers soft words of his appreciation for Will’s body and Will does not believe them.

Hannibal holds him and tells him that everything is going to be okay and Will _wants_ to believe it so badly but he cannot. All he truly knows is that as terrible as this is, it’s the least painful option he has and he lies still and listens to Hannibal breathe and he tells himself that when the time comes, he won’t fight back against Hannibal. He’ll slip away quickly and not try to hang on this time.


End file.
